


Who Knew this Place was Full of Everyday Miracles?

by Rynfinity



Series: The March of the Damned [6]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki swallows loudly.  "I'm scared," he says, and he knows he sounds it.</p><p>"I know you are.  It's okay," Anna tells him.  "We've got you."</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to <i>No One Grabbed Icarus by the Ankle and Dragged him Back Down to Earth</i> and will make the most sense read after its predecessors. </p><p>This story takes place in the same AU and timeframe as does the latter portion of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1319356/chapters/2744344">Deconstruction</a> from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/104813">Out of the Mouths of Babes</a>; unlike the Babes stories, this one is told from Loki's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet, sweet reunion, terror and all.

"Nervous," Loki says. "Nervous nervous nervous!" He shakes out his hands and bounces in place, which somehow doesn't help any.

Greg laughs, in sympathy. He's not really here _in an official capacity,_ from what Loki can tell - it seems like he's genuinely just stopping by and checking on how things are going with regards to this morning's meeting. How things are going _in Loki's head,_ that is. Which is... all about the anxiety.

"What if he doesn't like me anymore?"

"Oddly enough, I find that hard to believe," Greg says, still laughing. "I mean, considering all those sappy postcards." He grins broadly. "And I definitely didn't get that impression chatting with him at his initial discharge screening. And then there's the whole bit,” he teases, “about the stopping up and the calling... and calling... and calling..."

"Okay okay okay. You've made your point." Loki swats playfully at Greg's arm; Greg winces in mock pain.

"No hitting," he says, laughing harder.

"Thor lets me hit," Loki says, a little smug. "And bite, too."

"La la la," Greg sing-songs, hands over his own ears. “I don’t need to know you quite that well. Really.”

Loki sighs. He stops smiling and waits for Greg's hands to come down. "What if he's moved on," he asks, still unable to let go of all that worrying. "What if he's dating someone, and I'm just a brother again?" Not that he's really ever been _just a brother_ , at least not since he hit puberty, but sometimes Thor _gets perspective_ and acts as though that's how things ought to be.

"Well, you should ask him that, sure," Greg says, "since it's probably something you'll want to know before you make your housing decision. But I didn't get any wind of that, either. Honest," he adds. “Not even a hint.”

"Okay," Loki says, but he isn't.

~

"All set to go?" Anna stands in the doorway, in _doctor clothes_ today rather than in scrubs. Behind her is a short, balding man, also in a doctor’s lab jacket, who Loki is pretty sure he hasn't met.

"Almost." He continues the losing battle he’s been waging against his hair; he wants it up out of his face, so he won't be tempted to play with it constantly, but it's a sloppy mess and he _really doesn't want to look awful_. He's already changed t-shirts four times, because _that_ makes such a difference. He’s being such a girl.

Anna laughs. "Come on," she says, gesturing for him to hurry. "It's a meeting, not a prom. You look fine. This is Rob," she adds, as Loki flings his comb down in disgust and starts towards them. "He does a lot of outplacement work for us."

"Hi," Loki manages. He's way too nervous for hand-shaking.

"You'll be seeing a lot of me, I'm afraid," Rob says, with a friendly smile. "My apologies."

Loki tries to return the smile. He's not sure that's exactly what happens, but he tries.

~

"Slippers," Anna reminds, as he starts out the door.

_Oh, right. You’re an idiot_ , Loki tells himself. "Sorry," he offers, shrugging at the two of them. He kicks his slippers on. "I'm a little preoccupied just now. Is- is Thor here yet?"

"He's in the building, yes," Anna assures him as they start for the elevator. "But we'll all meet as a group first, just you and your care team, to make sure you feel adequately prepared. No surprises," she adds, smiling up at him.

Loki swallows loudly. "I'm scared," he says, and he knows he sounds it. He can’t even do _conversation_ right now.

"I know you are. It's okay," Anna tells him. "We've got you."

~

He looks around. This is new. The room is dominated by an impressive, fancy-pants cherry table – think _dinner for thirty_ \- and equally expensive-looking chairs. It's tempting to prance over and sit at the head of the long, glossy thing – to play at being Lord of the Manor - but Loki's barely even lord of his own _head_ most days so he... doesn't. Instead he takes a seat next to Anna and waits for the fun to begin.

Ten minutes in he catches himself already stifling his fourth yawn. It's not even that it's boring (although maybe it is; not like he'd know since _he isn’t even listening_ ); it's just that he's _absolutely fucking frantic_. He wants to climb over the back of his chair out of the room out of the building out of his own goddamned skin. It's taking everything he has just to _sit the fuck still_. Mostly. He’s positive he's still being way, way too fidgety.

~

Just as it's sinking in that the conversation in question has stopped entirely, Loki hears the big door to his right creak. He whips around, all coiled springs and flying wires, fingers dug into the arms of the chair like he’ll slingshot off into space if he loses his grip in it. And _oh sweet holy fucking god_ it's _Thor_. Thor, in a sport coat and nice wool trousers and one of those lovely silky golf shirts that costs as much as a day in this place. Loki can't- he can't fucking believe it. His brother is beautiful and terrifying and - on top of everything else - it's just too much to process. He sits there frozen, mouth half-open and forehead doubtless all scrunchy. _Jesus. You’re an idiot_ , he reminds himself again, but he’s _stuck_. Just stuck.

Thor reaches inside his coat for something. “I got this for you,” he says, holding it out. _A postcard._

Loki wills one of his clawed hands to let go of the chair. He reaches out to take the thing, half expecting it to burst into flames - to vanish entirely – as the tips of his fingers touch it.

It doesn't, Not then, and not when he looks at the picture. Not when he reads the _I love you_ scrawled across the flip side. Loki fights the urge to (cry like a baby, and) clutch the perfect little treasure to his chest. He looks at it a few seconds longer, acutely aware that _everyone is staring at him_. "How beautiful," he tells his brother, and then - roomful of staring people be damned - he gets quickly to his feet.

Thor's face contorts as though he's about to cry. About to cry _too._

Loki closes the space between them with a small hop and wraps both arms and a leg around his brother. He nuzzles into Thor's shoulder, very much wanting to touch and smell and taste _everythingallatoncerightnow._ He makes himself hold still, though. For an awful eternity his brother doesn't react... and then, finally - just as Loki is hovering on the dangerous, awful edge of outright panic - those big familiar arms come up and he's _home_.

"I've missed you so much," he tells Thor's neck. He so wants to lick; he doesn't.

His brother starts to cry, muffled little sobs that shake his solid, _familiar_ chest. Miracle of miracles, Loki manages not to do _that_ either.

~

The wait until lunch - which is only, what, an hour and a half? - feels interminable. He can't concentrate on anything whatsoever. In the end he gives up even pretending to try and instead paces the hallway outside the dining room, waiting for someone to _bring him his brother._

~

Thor looks tired and stressed. “Long meeting,” he says when Loki raises a questioning eyebrow. But he follows Loki dutifully to the service window and thanks the kitchen worker nicely for the tray of food.

“Outside? It’s quieter out there,” Loki offers, because he’s trying to make this good. He doesn’t normally bother with the patio when he’s eating alone, or with his care team, but he knows for certain he isn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself and he can’t imagine his brother will be up for _that kind of attention_ in the dining room.

Thor shrugs out of the sport coat, drapes it over an extra chair, and then holds their tray while Loki carefully sets the food out on the wicker table. Once their hands are finally empty, they exchange another big, silent hug; afterwards, Thor acts like a proper _gentleman caller_ and holds Loki’s chair out for him too. So far, so good. A little awkward, sure, but it’s been a while and that’s to be expected.

Or so he tells himself, to help stave off the gnawing dread that _Thor may have moved on,_ and this may be just brotherly love. Brotherly fucking duty.

~

Halfway through his sandwich, though – and thank goodness it’s finger food today; if he had to eat peas with a fork in front of Thor, he might just die – Loki glances up and catches his brother looking at him. Not just looking at him, either; drinking him in like he’s the most beautiful thing in the entire universe. Like he’s cool, fresh water in hottest reaches of the deep desert. "What are you staring at," Loki asks, feeling a little flustered. It’s been a while since he’s been the absolute center of attention, after all.

This kind of attention, at least.

"You," Thor says, blushing adorably red. "You're just impossibly attractive, you know?”

Loki sets the rest of his sandwich down – it’s toasted, hot and buttery – and, on a whim, skips the napkin in favor of licking his fingers. He accidentally (honest!) catches Thor on a huge mouthful of soda; the usual coughing and flailing ensues. It’s shouldn’t be funny, probably, but it is. He can’t help but laugh. His brother looks flat-out smitten, and – nerves and doubts aside - it’s _so fucking nice_ to still have this effect on someone. Someone who _matters_. Loki smiles. “Careful, there, brother mine. The beverages in this place are deadly.”

~

After that one brief uptick, they eat the rest of their meal in slightly strained silence. The whole thing is just starting to cross from that into really uncomfortable – to the point that it sends Loki’s anxiety level spiraling skyward, and leaves him having to really concentrate not to let on – when Thor pushes his own chair back from the table and makes a small gesture that could easily be _come here._

Screw not showing his cards. Jacked as he is just now, Loki doesn’t have it in him to wait for a second invitation. He slips out of his own chair and into his brother’s lap without leaving Thor any chance at all to reconsider

_Thor_ , who is so warm and so _perfect_ ; Loki relaxes into his brother’s solid body as very best he can. He hums quietly and lets his head drop back to rest on the comfortable slope of a muscular shoulder "Ohhhh," he says, "yes. This is nice."

Because it _is_ nice. Very nice. So nice that, when Thor takes him by the hipbones and lets both big hands slide slowly together along his waistline, Loki has to struggle not to wriggle his ass against his brother’s crotch. "I've missed you so much," he says, close on the heels of a sharp gasp.

Thor’s mouth is _right there_. So close and so _good_ , and Loki wants to taste it. Badly. And he’s apparently not alone; as Thor’s grip tightens, pulling them tight together, Loki can feel the hard press of his brother’s dick against his spine.

"Can I kiss you," Thor asks quietly, voice rough.

Loki doesn’t have it in him to wait to for a second invitation _here_ , either.

~

Quite inconveniently, out of mostly nowhere, the anxiety comes roaring back. It’s too much and it _hurts_ and he _just has to know_. "Are you seeing someone," he interrupts their kiss – before it can turn into something they really, really shouldn’t do here – to ask his brother.

"Of course not," Thor assures him, without hesitation. He trails his fingers lightly up Loki's chest and neck and then along the jawline, over _those scars_.

"I wasn't sure you would wait," Loki says, voice a little wobbly.

"I would," Thor says, quick and emphatic. "I have. I am. I will." He stops playing with Loki’s face and instead goes for another crushing, powerful hug. When he kisses Loki’s neck, though, the gesture is sweet and gentle. "I will," he says again, very firmly.

For now, at least, it will do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationships are strange.

“Everyone was quite pleased,” Anna tells him. “The two of you clearly share a strong positive bond, which is wonderful.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Sometimes our clients in abusive relationships- no, hear me out, please” she coaches, one hand on his wrist, lightly, “their bonds are based _in_ the abuse. Negative attention is better than no attention, that sort of thing.” She shrugs. “And when you take that away, they don’t really have anything.”

“Hmm,” he says, because he’s not sure what he thinks of that. He’s not sure he wants to think about it, even.

“We were a little concerned, given your history and some of the behavior traits you’ve demonstrated here,” she continues, giving his arm a little squeeze when he huffs, “that your relationship with Thor might fall into that category. Especially considering the older brother/younger brother dynamic.” She lets his wrist go and sits back in her chair. “After yesterday, though, everyone on your care team feels much better about your relationship.”

“Oh, me too,” Loki breathes with a quite a lot more feeling than intended. He laughs at himself, a little, because it all feels ridiculous now. “I’d been so worried. More than I knew, even, and I suppose that’s saying something.”

“And now?” She’s watching him intently, the way she does when she wants to be certain she gets the _whole picture_ of what’s really going on in his head.

He smiles. “And now I feel like he’s still interested. Like, really interested.”

“Sexually, you mean?”

Loki nods. “Yeah. I was telling Greg – before I saw my brother – that I was afraid Thor might have decided _this whole whatever-it-is_ between us was the cause of my issues. Or something equally stupid,” he goes on, because it _is_ stupid, but it’s also just the sort of heroic idiocy Thor tends to favor. “And while I understand that we share a brotherly bond and don’t want to lose _that_ either… well, I need more than that.” And after Thor’s visit he’s reasonably certain he’s not going to have any problem at all getting it.

She snickers. “Agreed, from the way he reacted to you, I don’t think there’s any risk at all that his current interest in you is purely platonic.”

“No, me neither,” he tells her. He thinks back to sitting in Thor’s lap after lunch, to the feel of his brother’s strong hands and the insistent pressure of Thor’s dick and the taste of his-. “Sorry,” Loki says, shifting in his seat and feeling his face flushing. “My mind wandered. I miss him already,” he offers, only partially to change the subject. He really does miss his brother, quite a bit more than he’d expected to in light of his Big Solo Initiative not long ago. He sighs. “I feel like I wasted precious time keeping him at arm’s length recently. He could have been visiting me all along.” Loki hadn’t been able to get that out of his head last night; the nagging feeling that he’d almost screwed things up by being selfish and stubborn.

She frowns slightly. “I can see how you might think that,” she says, “now that you’re feeling better. On top of which,” she adds, “you’ve also got this pleasant visit fresh in your mind.” Anna pauses; Loki nods. “But if you think back even a few days, not to mention a few weeks, do you remember how you felt about anyone stopping in?”

He does. “I wasn’t ready. Not because of Thor,” he clarifies, because it feels _important_. “I just wasn’t ready, myself, to- be seen in public, I guess you could say.” That’s not quite it but it’s close enough for these purposes. “I didn’t feel up to dealing with people.”

“And that’s okay, Loki,” she reminds him. “It’s okay to need time to heal, you know?”

~

_This DBT business_ is not like any sort of _group therapy_ he’s ever done before, and believe you me Loki has done plenty. Normally it’s just a lot of sitting around sharing stories and (theoretically) feeling reassured by- by how the other people in the room nod and _uh huh_ and _amen, brother_ about your crazy. You get a chance to be reminded that your crazy is their crazy, and – to some researcher’s way of thinking – you also (theoretically, again) pick up some social skills.

Not talking when other people are talking, not hogging the podium, that sort of thing. Not being a sarcastic asshole. Of course, it’s never really managed to teach him that.

In fact, when you get right down to it, it’s never really taught him anything. Listening to a bunch of idiots blather on about how they _know exactly how you feel_ \- when, in reality, they have no fucking clue – just makes him want to kill something. Some _one_. Except he never has, because that’s Thor’s shtick. Loki already has enough problems.

But, still. _Total waste of time_ just about sums it up. He tolerates it, every time and barely, because it’s required. Somehow it always manages to be required. No one ever knows quite what to do with a crazy person who already knows how to talk to other people.

This shit, though? This is bizarre. It’s more like _college_ , at least in his limited experience, than it is like therapy. There are catch-phrases to memorize and pictures to study and lots and lots of articles and case studies to read. And while there is talking – it _is_ group, after all - it’s not the usual _sharing is caring_ crap. It’s about the people who have been taking the training longer passing along their individual experiences with the various tools and methods: what worked, what didn’t, what they’ve learned.

He’s not a big fan of the catchy mnemonics – he doesn’t need stupid little cutesy phrases to learn and remember, even with his medication – but the information itself is- interesting.

By the end of each session, he’s exhausted. And on top of that he has _homework_. Crazy.

~

“I thought I was done with this studying shit,” he grumbles to the night nurse down in the lounge, as he (waits impatiently for 9:00 to arrive, so he can call, Thor, and) flips through his sheaf of papers, but it’s a good-natured protest. Honestly, it actually isn’t so bad to be learning.

~

“Hey,” he tells Sif when she answers _their_ phone. He waits apprehensively for the little stab of jealousy, but it doesn’t come. Deep down, he knows Thor dated Sif for all the ways she was like Loki and dumped her over _all the ways she wasn’t._ That, and she’s a loyal friend to them both; he’s confident, after all the three of them have been through together, that she won’t fuck him over. “Is Thor around,” he asks her. He can hear his brother talking in the background, but he’s working on being polite. On not stumbling all over himself in the mad rush to scratch his itch du jour.

_Yeah, he's here,_ Sif says. He can hear the happy smile in her voice. Good. Everyone is in a decent mood, then, and his call is welcome.

“And may I speak with him,” he asks her nicely. She saved his life. He doesn’t remember it, of course, but Thor’s told him some of what happened. There’s a time he would have hated her for what she did, too. Right now, he doesn’t.

_Sure. I'll put him on. But no phone sex, kiddos,_ she insists, laughing. _I'm trying to eat here._

~

He and his brother have talked enough recently that Loki is starting to feel nearly comfortable. He’s long since learned to turn out the noise around him – this time of the evening, the lounge is full of people chatting and playing cards and acting- well, like they’re _normal_ , more or less – and focus on his brother, and he’s mostly gotten past panicking. Mostly.

“How’s your ankle feeling,” he asks Thor, because conversations mean showing other people they matter. His brother fell down the courthouse steps last week; nothing serious, but it’s a decent place to start.

_It's better, thanks,_ Thor says, voice echoing slightly. _I can almost walk like a normal person._ He makes a nervous little noise. _Speaking of that - of injuries - how is your jaw doing?_

Holy shit. This is so not a conversation Loki is prepared to be having.

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he waits until he knows he can speak calmly. "It's pretty good, actually," he tells his brother. Now that’s he’s gotten started, really, continuing is surprisingly easy. "Most days it barely hurts at all. The doctor here says you missed your calling," he recounts, laughing. "You should have been a boxer, not a lawyer, he tells me." The story is mostly true; his xrays had been the talk of medical when he first got here. It’s just that no one knew who _the boxer_ was back then.

_No, he’s wrong; I'm way too pretty to be a boxer,_ Thor teases. They share a laugh. More than anything it’s a relief to be laughing in the face of tragedy.

"Too modest, too," Loki jokes back, like always.

_Yeah, Sif's gagging over here,_ his brother says. He clears his throat. _I know I've said it before,_ he goes on, heavy sadness replacing his earlier humor, _but I owe you at least a few more rounds anyway. I'm really sorry about that._

Loki snorts to cover the way he’s instantly on the verge of crying. "Oh, I think we're pretty even.” He can hear Thor snuffling wetly, which is absolutely no help at all. “Stop it, you big sap," he commands. "No crying. I'm in public here."

_Sorry, sorry. Look, I should let you get back to your- is it crocheting on Tuesdays,_ Thor jests.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Loki spits back, but he’s laughing again.

_I love you, baby,_ Thor tells him, and dammed if that didn’t come right out of nowhere. _I love you_.

He can do this. Loki takes a deep breath and _does:_ "I love you too. Bye," he adds quickly, before Thor can answer.

He hangs up so hard the phone rattles in its cradle. And then collapses back into his chair, head spinning and heart fucking pounding. _I love you, Thor,_ he test-drives in the privacy of his own head. _I love you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If at first you don't succeed, plan, plan again.

"While having you here has certainly been a pleasure," Anna tells him, as Rob nods, "and you're welcome to come back any time should the need arise, our goal is to make sure you don't ever have to."

Rob nods again. "Anna's right. We want to be sure you're as prepared to live independently as you possibly can be. So," he says, spreading his hands, "you've been in residential treatment before. In your opinion, was that discharge a success?"

His first instinct is to spit out _what the fuck do you think,_ because after all he's _here_ , isn't he? But that's probably not fair, really, because it's not like even this place is magical protection against another meltdown. That, and it’s not exactly Rob’s fault the guy gets on Loki’s nerves a little. Consequently, he makes himself actually think before responding. "Well, some of it was undoubtedly me," he starts off. "I was young, and hopelessly immature, and not at all motivated to succeed. I just wanted to be out of there."

He takes a sip of water from the bottle in front of him. It’s cold, and he’s thirsty, so he takes another. "But I also don't think my treatment there was very successful... and neither was my medication regimen. Which,” he points out, probably unnecessarily, “ we all got a lovely opportunity to witness again recently."

When neither Anna nor Rob interrupts Loki goes on. "Probably the biggest problem, though, was that I had a pretty lousy support system. And, of course - and I probably shouldn't be telling you this," he adds, laughing a little sharply, " - I lied about that repeatedly during discharge. My doctor did want me to go someplace stable, I'm sure. I carefully pretended I was." He thinks back, remembering Scott and- and _Lila_. "And it wasn't _too_ horrible for a while, really. Not until my only true friend died."

Anna frowns. She looks genuinely sad. "I'm sorry," she tells him, reaching out to give his hand a quick squeeze.

He shrugs, all set - by habit - to offer up the usual _whatever, it's nothing._ Except it wasn't, and it isn't, and his friendship with Lila deserves better. "It was really hard," he says instead. "Sometimes I still miss her."

"Were the two of you a couple," Rob asks, and just like that (see: the guy gets on his nerves) the old urge to be shocking bubbles up.

"No," Loki scoffs. "She was my friend, largely without benefits, and my S&M partner. I was her _brother's_ fucktoy."

Whatever he was trying for – and he’d be hard-put to identify it to start with - doesn't happen. Rob's expression is still one of bland interest; nothing whatsoever changes in his voice. He’s as good at that as the rest of them here. "And were there drugs in your home?"

Home is sort of a strange word for it. "With my friend and her brother, you mean?" When Rob nods, Loki laughs. "There were drugs in _me_ , as often as I could put them there. Like I said, I was not very mature. I certainly wasn’t making anything close to good choices.”

"Thor tells me he has removed everything from the apartment," Rob tells him. "Including any alcohol. Is keeping it that way going to be a problem for either of you?"

Loki considers that for a bit. He still misses the stuff from time to time, sure, but if he never goes through withdrawal again it will be too soon. And his- his _last night in the apartment_ likely scared Thor out of any false sense of security as well. Still, he doesn't want to lie. He's trying to do things _right_ this time, he really is. "Thor never used,” he says, but for sure that isn’t the whole story. “That said, I'm sure it will be difficult from time to time," he admits, as honest as he can be. "But hopefully Thor and I can support each other."

~

There's a lot more planning going on this time, for certain. First up, right on par with housing to listen to his care team go on about it, is a day treatment program that both works with recovering addicts and will allow Loki to continue his DBT. He's nearly through his first complete round of training, and it _is_ actually helping some, but Anna tells him it really takes several repeat courses and a couple of years to sink in. Throughout his entire stay here she has never once given him reason to disbelieve her; he’s inclined to take her word for it on this one.

His team identifies a decent-sounding program in the same metro area as Thor's apartment, and everyone gets on the line for a phone screen that doesn't go too badly. When Loki gets an opportunity to ask any last questions, he scrunches up his face and looks at his hands. "Do you have a pottery studio," he asks, feeling a little silly. "I find it really helpful somehow, working with clay."

~

"The recreational therapist said no," he tells Thor later, on the phone, "and my heart sank. But it turns out there's a place next door I can use, as long as someone from the center goes with me. So that might work out after all."

_If not,_ Thor assures him, always bull-headed, _I'll buy you one._

Loki laughs. "You _rent_ ," he reminds his brother. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous an idea that is?"

_I don't care,_ Thor says. _If you need it, I'll make it happen._

Privately, Loki has his doubts. He chooses not to air them, though, because he knows he’s not the only one who really is trying.

~

"And out of everything we've reviewed today, what's the most important thing?"

"To you or to me," he asks, grinning to show Anna he's teasing. Mostly. "Okay, okay,” he concedes as she gives him _that look_. “If I find myself wanting Thor - or anyone, for that matter - to serve as a tool by which I can hurt myself, I should apply the same techniques against that as I would utilize against any other urge to self-harm."

"And," she prompts, because they've talked about this often enough that she knows he always (and still) struggles with _Part II_. Okay, Parts II and III, because he invariably drags the entire business out something awful.

Loki sighs loudly. "And if I am not successful, Thor - or, again, whomever - should always refuse to comply. He should help me get help," he goes on, dropping the pretense that they’re actually talking about just anybody, "the same way he would if I was trying to hurt myself through some other means."

"Good," Anna says, smiling. "I know you hate this, I do. Now, you're almost there... what's the last - but not least important, I'm afraid - bit?"

She's right; he does hate it. It still doesn't feel _true_ to him, deep inside. Even so, she’ll make him sit here until he says it; there’s nothing to be gained by procrastinating. "And if he _does_ try to hurt me,” he tells her, trying to sound sincere, “I need to do my best to get to safety."

"Perfect," she says, face lighting up as he finishes, and he thinks he may have finally _sold_ it. "And keep reminding yourself until you believe it," she adds as he stands to go.

Okay, maybe he hasn’t sold it after all.

~

"Excited about tomorrow?" It's the first thing Anna asks him as he walks into her parlor that morning, and he can't help but mirror her grin. _Is he the fuck ever!_

"Very," he says, with enthusiasm. "I'm going on a date with Thor!"

She looks as happy as he feels, which is really, really happy. He’s nervous as hell, sure, but still oh-so-very happy. "What do you and Thor have planned for your date," she asks brightly, and for once it feels a lot more like conversation than interrogation.

"Sightseeing," he tells her. "We're going to check out a few of those postcard spots in real life. And then lunch somewhere." He laughs. "I'm letting Thor pick the restaurant. Cross your fingers I don't live to regret it. Or, rather,” he corrects, suddenly painfully aware of where they are – of what _he_ is - “cross your fingers I _do_ live _and_ don’t regret it.”

“That’s a lot of finger-crossing,” she says, laughing, and Loki thanks his lucky _everything_ that she took his flip comment the way it was intended. If he goes and gets himself grounded now, especially over a stupid unthinking remark, he may just implode.

She’s still laughing when she goes on: “I may just have to ask Greg to help me out.”

“He will, you know,” Loki tells her smugly. “I’m his favorite.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki puts out on the first date, because he's like that.

Rob and Anna show up right on schedule to escort him down to the lobby. “You look nice,” Anna tells him – Loki knows he won the battle with his hair today, for once, but it never hurts to have someone else say it – “and I hope you and Thor have a great time.”

“Not, of course, that we have reason to doubt you will,” Rob adds, smiling.

Loki picks up his mediset and logbook, along with a pen – at which point he laughs to himself; the world’s a little strange when _progress_ can be measured in things like _being trusted alone with a pen_ \- and joins them in the hall. “Onward?”

Rob steps aside, letting Anna and Loki go first and settling in a step or two behind them. “Now, one last time,” she asks Loki as they walk along, “what _won’t_ you be doing today?”

He rolls his eyes, not subtly. “I won’t be drinking alcohol, even though it is always 5:00 somewhere. I won’t be smoking, which is easy because for whatever reason _that_ never really hooked me.” He wrinkles his nose: ick. Talk about things he totally doesn’t miss. “I won’t be getting high, which is also easy because Thor wouldn’t have anything like that on him to start with and I sure as fuck don’t want to be detoxing again any time soon. Like, ever,” he adds, so no one takes away the wrong message. It’s true, too. “And I won’t be hurting myself on purpose, which includes _oops hurting myself by fake accident._ And,” he assures Anna, turning to look her full in the face as they step into the elevator, “I won’t be asking Thor to hurt me either.”

“On the other hand,” he goes on, waving his left hand around like a nut because he’s giddy with nervous anticipation, “I _will_ be taking my medication right on schedule. And writing it down. And,” he says in closing, even though he can’t imagine actually doing so, “I will call the emergency number here if I need anything at all.”

“Good, good,” she tells him. “But I think you missed-.”

“Look,” he insists, cutting her off, “this is the longest I’ve gone with sex since high school. You’ve _seen_ Thor. You’ve seen us together. Sorry, but you’re just not getting any promises from me in that department.” He shoots her a sly little grin. “Sorry,” he offers again, with a shrug this time. He isn’t, not in the least, and she knows it.

~

As they – Anna, Rob, and the lucky person tasked with organizing everything – run through the same little drill in reception, and he struggles to keep his hands off his brother, Loki can’t help but notice no one asks him about it again.

~

Thor leads him out through the big door and onto the veranda. It’s a beautiful, beautiful day and everything about being out here is heaven.

“Mmm, what a nice day,” Loki offers, right on the heels of a long breath. It’s not like he’s been locked inside – he can eat in the courtyard area any time he wants, although he normally doesn’t, and sometimes they even have scheduled activities on the grounds – but this is _different_. This tastes like freedom.

He gives Thor’s fingers a quick squeeze. “It’s really, really nice to see you,” he points out, just in case it isn’t already obvious. And maybe it isn’t; Thor isn’t the most observant person in the world, after all. Even on a good day.

“I’m really, really nervous,” his brother says instead of answering, absolutely sounding it.

It’s hardly the time for a lesson in who’s really going out on a limb here, and that’s not the tone Loki wants to establish anyway. Instead he looks at Thor and moves a full step closer. “I hear it’s like riding a bike,” he says softly, lips just brushing his brother’s ear. “At least,” he adds, taking a chance and running his tongue along the shell of it, then dipping farther in at the end as Thor shudders, “that’s what they say.”

It works as well as Loki’d hoped it would, too. “Let’s get off the grounds first,” his brother says roughly, giving his hand a sharp tug. “Now.”

~

It’s quite a walk to the parking lot, down the sloping lawn and nearly to the fence. The grounds look _different_ like this, holding his brother’s hand and strolling along. That, and they have hours. There’s no reason to run down the hill like children.

~

When they get to the car, Thor rushes to open his door like the _proper gentleman caller_ he’s clearly become. "Here, let me get that,” he offers politely, kissing the top of Loki’s head. Loki smiles up at him happily, but Thor is already shutting the door.

No worries. Loki knows exactly how to fix what ails his brother. As soon as they’re off the premises, out from under the cameras’ watchful eyes, he’ll _take care of everything._ Take matters into his own hands, so to speak. Or, well, literally.

~

The car bumps over the edge of the road, out of the driveway, and Thor turns away from the city. They’re going up along the waterfront, then. Perfect. Loki reaches out and rests just the tips of his fingers on his brother’s muscular leg.

He spends a few minutes observing the countryside – he hasn’t been up here in ages, probably not since he was a kid being dragged on one pointless family excursion or another – and tracing idle squiggles up and down Thor’s thigh.

Neither of them says anything, which is fine. Loki is more than happy just to _be_ here, with white, fluffy clouds in the sky and the sun shining down and his fingers only inches away from their target.

~

They pass through a little podunk town – not even a _town,_ really, just a small collection of faded, run-down houses – and out into rural nothing, at which point Loki’s patience abruptly runs out. He traces one more random wavy line down that lovely leg, nearly to the knee, and then keeps going on the upstroke until his fingers cup Thor’s balls.

His brother squawks in surprise but doesn’t pull away; it’s a perfectly passable invitation and Loki takes it. He works Thor’s zipper down one-handed (if nothing else, a little time spent as a hooker gives a person mad skilz) and slides his fingers inside. No boxers. Alrighty then.

"Fuck- Loki- driving," Thor sputters in a reasonable facsimile of choking. "Oh god."

"So?" Loki laughs, partly to cover his own failing composure. "This is a pretty secluded area,” he observes when his brother doesn’t answer, “from the looks of it." It’s all woods here. The road runs slightly below the surrounding terrain, with trees right up to the edges of the banks abutting it.

He slides his hand up just a little and runs his thumb gently over the head of Thor's dick, just to see what will happen. The results are immediate and promising, if perhaps a little dicey; his brother all but loses control of the car. "It doesn't seem like you're in any shape to drive, dearest," Loki points out, stifling a shriek. "Perhaps we should find a place to pull over for a little while," he suggests, laughing. “Just until you’re feeling better.”

Thor finally turns his head and looks at him, just for a second. “We aren’t supposed to do this,” he says, voice breaking.

“Probably not,” Loki agrees, nodding to the windshield, “but I have no intention of letting that stop me.”

~

The car bumps and squeaks as Thor pilots it rather short of deftly down the dirt drive ( _Nature Preserve?_ Seriously? It’s not much to look at but, then again, that’s okay; he isn’t planning on spending much more time observing all that nature anyway). The latter is probably due at least in part to Loki’s fingers… which are still wrapped around what has now become quite the impressive erection. 

It’s an erection he hasn’t touched in far, far too long. 

Thankfully, its owner must feel much the same. By the way the car jerks to a graceless stop in the makeshift parking lot, Loki’s pretty damned sure he’s not going to have to waste any further time on persuasion.

~

In the back seat Thor lets Loki help get them a little bit naked – only the parts that really matter, because there isn’t exactly much room to maneuver back here – and then (oh, sweet baby jesus) wrestles him just enough to pin his hands roughly against the window. It’s an awkward position but holy fuck he wants this and damned if a cramped car is going to deny him.

There has to be a way. In the end, while Thor digs around for god knows what, Loki frantically kicks one foot out of its shoe and pant leg. It isn’t easy, but he does manage to get it up and over his brother’s shoulder.

Yeah, maybe he bonks Thor in the face in the process. From the sound of his brother’s voice as Thor grits out "Fuck, Loki," though, no one’s counting.

"That's the idea," he teases, blinking up at his brother’s flushed, sweaty face and bared teeth, "isn't it?" All he knows is, it had sure the hell better be.

~

The car smells like candy and sweat and _sex_. When Thor slides a couple of greasy, slippery fingers between his ass cheeks and over his hole, fumbling a little in the rush to _get this going already_ , Loki can’t help but press hard against them. _Ohhh, yes._ He kisses Thor messily, moaning and panting against his brother’s perfect mouth. If in the process he somehow closes his teeth on Thor’s bottom lip a little harder than he ought to, well, again, _no one’s counting._

~

Loki doesn’t want much prep and he doesn’t get it; just a few quick, burning stabs of those two fingers in and back out, without even the benefit of any further stretching. It’s not enough and he doesn’t care, at least not until he runs up against the sheer laws of physics and can’t help but squeak when his brother’s dick – considerably larger than two fingers, and isn’t that the beauty of it? – fucking _skewers_ him.

"Sorry sorry sorry," Thor offers, lips sliding over Loki’s as he pulls up short.

But stopping cold like this is worse; there’s _nothing but the burn_ and - _oh god_ \- Loki’s almost not sure he can take it. “No it's fine,” he pants (it isn’t, but it will be). “Just give me a second.” Which doesn’t help. Fuck it. “Go go go,” he all but whines, eyes tight shut and watering badly.

It hurts like crazy as Thor bottoms out – Loki knows he’s going to feel this for days – but the benefit of long experience tells him that, from here, it can only get better. He grits his teeth, wills himself to relax as best he can, and gives Thor a little kick or two to _get things moving._

~

Not much later, sure enough, it does get better. Oh god, does it fucking ever.

The two of them slide together and apart, easy and slick, like well-oiled (hah!) parts of the same machine. The sharpest of the pain subsides, dulled down to the point where Loki can finally enjoy the drag of Thor’s hand on his dick… where nothing drowns out the heavy, slow, throbbing build of- of the inevitable. 

A little more and the whole thing is nothing but _good._ Very, very good. Now, all Loki wants is _more._ More more more, harder and faster; anything and everything Thor has to give. He rakes his nails down the broad, sweat-soaked expanse of his brother’s back - underneath the shirt, digging into bare skin - laughing wild and shrill when Thor roars. Pretty soon they’re wrestling together, totally lost to the moment: all hands and feet and teeth, just this side of fighting.

It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. It’s so, so fucking worth it. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted anything more.

~

Unsurprisingly, neither of them lasts very long. Loki can feel himself getting awfully, dangerously close as Thor enters the home stretch, plunging into him again and again, harder and faster, rhythm shot to shit completely, but he manages – barely, only just able to distract himself by mouthing at the taut, muscled forearm straining alongside his face – to hold off long enough. With _maybe_ seconds to spare his brother pulls out; on a choked-off grunt, Thor splatters all up and down the back of his leg, and that stalls things off a little longer.

Even so, it’s only half a handful of rough tugs later that Loki comes.

~

"Holy shit," Thor says as Loki rubs his hands together, trying to get the circulation going again. They’re both hopelessly out of breath. That, and grinning like Cheshire cats.

His brother looks him up and down. "This is going to take some explaining," Thor says, laughing, hair a sweaty mess and hand dripping. Loki catches him by the wrist and _licks_. “Stop, you,” Thor scolds, but he’s laughing and sounding anything but unhappy. “God,” he points out, still laughing, “we didn’t do a very good job following the rules, did we?”

Loki smirks around his brother’s slimy fingers. “No drinking, no drugs, limited caffeine,” he recites, enunciating as best he can with his mouth half full. “There may be a few injuries,” – and how! – “but they certainly weren’t intentionally inflicted. Well, mostly not.” He lets go of Thor’s hand and stretches up to peer out the window. “I suppose there _is_ the bit about illegal…”

~

“They’re not going to strip-search you, are they,” Thor asks as they wipe themselves as clean as they can. Thank god the car has fake leather seats; they would never get this mess out of upholstery.

“I don’t think so,” Loki says. “They’re definitely going to sit me down and talk with me, though.” He leans across the front seats and twists the rear-view mirror until he can see himself. Yeah, no. “I think we need to find- well, a bathroom,” he suggests, laughing again. “And then a laundromat?”

~

They find both at once, as it turns out. Thor lets him go first and Loki does the best he can to neaten up, smirking at himself in the mirror. He hasn’t had _this_ problem in a while. He turns this way and that, inspecting his reflection; there don’t seem to be any bites or bruises showing when he’s dressed, so that’s something.

~

“Hey, beautiful,” Thor quips as he comes out of the bathroom himself (looking hot as fuck in just his leather bomber jacket, and it’s a damned good thing Loki isn’t up for another round right now, because this most definitely isn’t the place for it) and pulls up a chair. “Are you okay?” He looks more than a little worried again, now that the sex buzz is wearing off.

_Worried_ doesn’t belong in this outing anywhere; not anymore. Loki smiles, trying to be as reassuring as he can. “My ass is a little sore, let’s just say,” he admits, “but I don’t think you’ve managed to damage anything permanently.”

“Good to know. I’d hate to think I’d put you out of commission,” his brother kids him, and Loki sticks out his tongue. When Thor continues, though, he’s no longer teasing. “How are you,” he asks, evidently no longer talking about sex, either, “beyond that?”

“Getting by,” Loki says. “Look, Thor,” he says gently, “I know this makes you really uncomfortable. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, we do,” Thor counters. “I’m trying- trying to do better.”

Loki shifts in his chair and settles against his brother’s arm, resting his head on Thor’s warm shoulder. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “me too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going home isn't so easy.

"So," Rob asks Loki from behind the reception desk, "how did it go?"

"It was nice," Loki offers as he makes his way over to the high counter. He doesn't even bother trying to hide how stiffly he's moving. "I had a really good time with him. I miss him already." He does, too, which borders on ridiculous (not to mention pitiful) considering he and Thor _just_ finished a sloppy-kissing, nearly teary goodbye not fifteen feet from here and not quite three minutes ago.

His brother probably isn't even quite back to the car yet, actually. If he sprints, Loki, thinks, he can- no. _You're still not ready,_ he reminds himself, _and neither is your brother._ Sad as it is to contemplate, there are things out there in the real world even the two of them can't fix by fucking.

"-anything metal while you were offsite?" The security guard - neatly dressed in a sharp-looking suit but very guard-esque just the same - finishes, eyeing him closely. The guy isn’t looking nearly as pleased to see him as Rob is; Loki ought to (pay attention, and) watch himself. The last thing he needs right now, at this very late juncture, is stupid trouble. "Should I repeat that for you, Mr. Laufeyson?"

"What? No, sorry. I was thinking about something for a moment there," Loki hurries to explain. "I did not acquire anything metal while I was out, no," he continues, spreading his legs and lifting both arms to shoulder height for the wand. He _knows_ this drill; there really isn’t any excuse for blowing it.

When the thing doesn't beep, Rob releases the door. "All set," he tells Loki, with an _after you_ sweep of the hand. "Anna asked me to tell you can see us anytime."

"I'm ready now," Loki offers in the hallway, "if that's easiest." Yes, between the car and the utterly delicious shrimp scampi afterwards, he probably smells like a garlicky tangerine orgasm. Whatever. His face is scrubbed and his shirt is freshly-washed and no amount of showering is going to make him any less naughty… or any less bowlegged. He'd really like to put this _inspection_ behind him and then maybe squeeze in a nice solid nap before dinner.

Rob laughs. "A little worn out?"

Loki shoots him a sly little grin. "All that fresh air," he says. "Good, wholesome fun always takes a lot out of me."

~

"My, my; don’t _you_ look pleased with yourself," Anna observes drily as he and Rob take their spots - Loki rather gingerly, with one hand on the carved wooden arm and the other splayed flat on the seat cushion to better gauge his landing - at opposite ends of the usual sofa. From the sunny smile on her face, though, she’s clearly pleased and not annoyed.

"It was good," he assures her. "My date, I mean. I had a wonderful time." He tucks a stray curl of hair behind his own ear, to keep the goddamned annoying thing from poking him in the eye yet again. _Ah, bed-head._ "No drugs, no self-injury, no drinking." He grins as broadly as he can, which is pretty broadly. "Only very minimal crime, and here I am home before curfew." He doesn't add _mom,_ although it _is_ more than a little tempting. He does, however, spread his hands _ta-da_ style.

Her eyebrows pop up, but she's still smiling pleasantly and he’s not all that worried. "Okay, okay," he says, resigned and ready for what promises to be the gentlest of beatings. "Yes. There was sex. In the car. _Minimal crime_ ," he adds, with big air quotes, letting his face go all wide-eyed. "There don't seem to be any motels around here."

"And you spent a lot of time looking for one, I suppose," she offers, smirking.

"Nope," he admits cheerfully. "Not really."

~

Most of the discussion, though, isn’t about that at all. It seems she and Rob mostly want to get Loki’s input on how he and Thor interacted; did he feel pressured, did he want to act out or hurt himself, did they fight, that sort of thing. It's all pretty easy, actually because none of his time with his brother involved anything like that. Not today.

"And how do you feel about going home," Anna asks him as they're winding things up.

"Better," he says, after a few moments' thought. "I feel like I have something real to aim for now." He stifles a yawn, rather badly. She laughs.

"Shoo," she tells him, flipping her hands at him much the way one might evict a flock of starlings. "Go rest up from your big adventure. Do you need to stop off at medical," she asks – and this time Loki’s not sure if she’s serious or teasing – when he can't help but grunt upon standing.

"It's fine," he assures her. "I'm fine. It's just that- it seems I've lost my callouses." And on that note he darts out. As best he _can_ dart, that is.

~

Loki rifles through the thick sheaf of papers as he waits, with Greg and Anna, in reception. It’s all there: Prescriptions, instructions, things to do and things to avoid. Some summary information for day treatment (the big packet went via good old US mail, several days ago… he’d accompanied Greg to the post office to help mail it, as part of _learning how to live in the world again_ ). Enrollment forms for the pottery studio next door to the center, with all of the necessary sections already completed. Recipes. Tip sheets. Exercises.

He flops back against the fancy Victorian loveseat, arms crossed, clutching the papers to his chest. “I have an owner’s manual now,” he complains to the ceiling. He can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry. He’s having a hard time believing he won’t be staying here anymore; it doesn’t feel real.

“I suspect we could all do with an owner’s manual from time to time,” Anna says. Greg laughs, but it sounds forced. Especially when he clears his throat at the end.

“We’re going to miss you, Loki,” Greg tells him. “You’ve done really good work here.”

“Stop,” Loki orders. “Or I’ll cry, and where will _that_ leave us?”

Anna laughs, sounding suspiciously clogged herself. “Soggy, Loki. It will leave us all soggy.”

~

Not twenty minutes later, teary, heartfelt hugs behind him and one small overnight bag of (paperwork and) soft, stretchy _comfortable clothes_ in hand, Loki toddles out to the parking lot after his brother.

He hasn’t felt this small in ages.

~

“Are you okay,” Thor asks for the fourth or fifth time in half an hour when Loki just can’t stop crying.

“Leave it,” Loki says, a little more curt than he probably should be. He takes a deep breath – no breathing _in through the nose, out through the mouth_ right now, but maybe even this will help in a pinch – and lets it out in a slow, whistling sigh. “I didn’t mean to snap,” he tells his brother when Thor says nothing. “This is just- harder than I expected, and we’re not even out to the fucking highway.”

~

About halfway _home_ , dehydrated and wiped out, Loki finally manages to drift off to sleep for a little while. When he comes to again, puffy-eyed and bleary and more than a bit disoriented, Thor is holding his hand.

He gives his brother’s fingers a tentative squeeze, mostly to see if he’s in trouble.

“I love you,” Thor whispers from across the car.

Huh. Maybe he isn’t.

~

“Baby!” Sif all but lunges at him as soon as Thor gets the door open. She skids to a halt about two feet away, wobbling a little as she struggles to stay upright. “Hug,” she asks. “May I?”

“Of course,” he tells her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders and burying his face in her long black hair to- to keep from having to look around the apartment. “It’s good to see you.” It is, too. He missed her. He owes his life to her, Thor’s told him, and she’s not even pissed that he hasn’t said _thank you._

He missed this place, too… he did. It’s just too much all at once. Too much to handle.

Sif peels Loki off and pushes him out to arm’s length, gripping him firmly just above the elbows. “Hey you,” she exclaims, peering up into his face. “Thor was right. You really do look fantastic!”

“I look a whole lot less dead than I did the last time I was here,” Loki agrees, nodding. He’s really just joking but, from the way his brother winces, humor like that clearly isn’t going to fly here. Oops. _Not with the nuts anymore, Loki; behave yourself._ He’s too tired just now to care.

“Here, hold this for me,” Sif teases, passing him off to Thor before the shit has a chance to start flying. She’s always _the best_ at defusing things. Loki wonders for a split second if his brother realizes how lucky they are to have her.

Thor pulls him close, clutching him tightly like there’s no tomorrow. “It’s good to have you home,” he says fervently, stubble scraping rough against Loki’s cheek. “So, so good.”

“It’s good to be here,” Loki tells him, dutifully. Just now it’s not, but with a little sleep under his belt he really hopes it will be.


End file.
